A King for a Queen

Arielle opened the bag with trembling hands. Upon seeing its contents she stifled a scream and sank into a nearby chair, all strength gone from her limbs. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as an immense feeling of guilt and grief crashed into her. Kolton, the king of Pelon, was dead. He had traded his life for hers. The life of a king for that of a lowly guard.

She sobbed quietly for several minutes, head in her hands before she registered that her name was being called. She looked up through bleary eyes to see that General Ravenore and Counselor Chi had joined Grand Minister Bhenod. All three were looking at her, grief stricken expressions on their faces.

"Arielle," GM softly said, "these are for you." He handed her an envelope addressed to her. "In know you must be feeling but we need you to read these immediately."

Confusion mixing with her grief, Arielle took the offered envelope. The script and seal revealed it to be from Kolton.  She opened it and removed several sheets of lightweight parchment and a sheet of heavier weight, the kind used for official documents.

She looked at the lighter weight sheets first. Scrawled on them in a neat, but hurried script was:

Dearest Arielle,
      I cannot begin the express the honor you have done me and the kingdom of Pelon by serving as my guard for so many years. You have performed this duty admirably and with greater conviction than anyone could have asked.
     When word came to me of your capture and Jhaeros' condition for your release I knew, without hesitation, what I would do. There are those who will view the exchange as a foolish king throwing his life away for that of a lowly peasant, but they are wrong. It's that of a king, exchanging his life for his queen. A man trading himself for the woman he loves.
      I love you Arielle. I have for some time now. I regret that I never told you, but the knowledge that such an admission would drive you from the Raven Guard and my side was too much to bear.
      I wish I had more time to explain, but I have one last request of you. This request comes not from your king, but from your friend. Enclosed you will find a Certificate of Marriage. It is dated for several days after we returned from our ordeals in Susal (so it will seem to validate the rumors that already drift through the castle). It is signed by myself, General Ravenore, Grand Minister Bhenod, and Counselor Chi, all it needs to be valid is your signature.
      My last request is this: sign the certificate and assume the throne of Pelon. Petition King Ehrendil. He will stand with you. Unite the armies of Pelon and Iselon and crush Jhaeros. Avenge my death and the death of your father. Take back that which is rightfully yours. You are the lost daughter of Ar’undale, rightful queen of Kamor. Never forget that.
      I know this not something you ever wanted, and I'm sorry I must ask it of you. As you consider, remember that I am not asking this of you as your king, but as your friend. It is a request, not a command. Follow your heart as you always have.
     I must go now. I have a narrow window of time in which I will be able to slip out of the castle and come for you. You can trust the three men I have mentioned. They have been true friends. I wish you all the best.
              Your friend,
                 Kolton

Arielle didn't even bother to look at the certificate. She sunk back into the chair, one hand over her mouth, the other limply clutching the papers.

"These have to be fake." She eventually muttered. The words rung hollow even as she said them. She knew Kolton’s handwriting. The documents were authentic.

"I can promise they are not." Grand Minister Bhenod answered. "While no one knew of his plans to trade himself for you, the three of us were fully aware of the certificate. The king had it drawn up in case something happened to him before he married. It was always his intention that you should become queen in that situation."

Arielle ran a hand over her face and muttered "Damn him. He had no right to ask this of me." She covered her eyes, bracing her elbow on the table before her, once again muttering the curse.

After several minutes she asked, "What happens if I refuse to sign?"

"Then Lord Mourndane will assume the throne." General Ravenore answered.

Arielle looked up sharply at the reply. Lord Mourndane was a tyrant. He would run the kingdom into he ground and all the work she and Kolton as well as Kolton’s father had done to improve the lives of half-elves in Pelon would be undone overnight.

"He is the closest surviving relative." Counselor Chi added.

She ran her hand over her face again, suddenly tired. “This will never work.”

Grand Minister Bhenod chuckled. “I believe I said as much to him when he had Counselor Chi draft the certificate.”

“I wasn't even there! How can I agree to a marriage I was never present for?” She asked, tossing the papers onto the table.

“Well actually-”

She looked up to see the three men look at each other sheepishly.

“What?”

Counselor Chi looked back at her. “You were there, standing by the door mind you, but you were there. It was quite obvious that you were uncomfortable with our arguing.”

Arielle’s memory flashed back to the moment he was referencing. Kolton and the men before her had been in a heated argument over something she had been trying not to eavesdrop on. There had been no obvious reason for her to be in the room, but Kolton had been insistent, telling her to stand by the door. At the time she had though he was being paranoid, but apparently he had been being devious.

“This is what you were arguing about?” She queried, not entirely believing their insinuation.

“Yes.” Grand Minister Bhenod replied. “As I said, this plan has been in place for some time.”

Arielle sat back in the chair again. She sat for several minutes staring at the papers strewn across the table, trying not to eye the dark spot that was growing on the bag which was also there. All her life she had wanted to be a beacon of hope to her fellow half-elves living in Pelon. She had become a Keeper, a city guard, to achieve that goal. Circumstances had eventually led to the then prince of Pelon, Kolton, to convince his father to change the law to allow her, and other half-elves, into the Raven Guard, the elite guards who served the royal family directly.

Now, she was presented with not only the opportunity to go beyond that achievement, she was being presented the throne of a powerful kingdom. The throne of a kingdom that had done its best to belittle and demean people like her. She was being given the ultimate chance to embody the hope she had always desired to be. It would be a fight, inside and outside, and while she did not know enough of her father and his kingdom to strongly desire vengeance for him, she could not let Kolton’s progress be in vain.

“Damn him.” She sighed, once again running a hand over her face. She looked back at the three men, “ Who has a pen and ink?”

To Die For Love and Freedom

They were words that spoke of rebellion and freedom. Rebellion against those who had oppressed us for centuries and freedom to do and be what we wanted. They were words what promised a better life for ourselves and those who came after us. I fell in love with those words and with the man who spoke them. Those inspiring words from an inspiring man. Now, I stand condemned to death. Doomed to die for fighting for a better life, for rising up against those who would keep me down. He stands beside me, my lover and commander, along with many others who rose up with us. I pray our sacrifice will not be in vain. I pray that others will hear his words and fall in love with them and the desire for freedom.

Lonely Love

He waited for her. He sat quietly, all alone, and waited; and waited, and waited. She never came. Eventually, sad and dejected he left. He was never seen again. Some say he left and died alone of a broken heart. Others say he left and found love again in a distant, distant land. No one knows for sure. They only know that a love that had held so much promise withered and died like a rose in winter.

A "Guardian Angel"

I take a deep breath as the figure exits the building. They are so beautiful. The way they walk, the way the dress- absolutely exquisite. I follow them, discretely of course (they can't know about me just yet, the time is not right) as they walk. I know where they are going but I still follow behind anyway. I pretend that we are walking together. Their phone rings and they answer it. I feel a stab of jealousy. They should be talking to me. Their intoxicating voice should be echoing through my ears, not the ears of someone else who does not appreciate and love them the way I do. They laugh, a heavenly sound, and the jealousy renews. They should be laughing at my jokes. I follow them until they return home, watching and absorbing their every move. The jealousy still smolders. It has been long enough. Tonight, I will make myself known. I will let them know that they have a "guardian angel" that loves them and is watching over them.

The Night Before Duty

Captain Harrison looked down at his young son. He would miss him so much. He hated that he had to leave, but duty was duty.

He could hear his men laughing and talking with their families and friends. They would be leaving for Eiridin tomorrow. Since they were escorting King James, there was no way of know how long they'd be gone. So tonight, the families and friends of the Guard were having a feast.

The King had ordered his kitchen staff to cook their best and had lent the men one of his banquet halls for the occasion. Entertainers had been hired and were outdoing themselves.

Even thought there was much merriment, the was still a lingering sense of apprehension. Eiridin was the capital city of country they had been at war with not too long ago. The war was over, but relations were not friendly. The king was going as a display of "good will". There were also rumors that he was going to speak with King Ivan about a marriage between their two heirs. Captain Harrison had no idea if they were true, it was not his place to inquire about such things. His job was to protect the king, nothing more. He only offered advice when the king asked for it; and though that happened often, the king had not brought up that particular subject.

The feast ended at midnight. He wanted his men well rested and prepared for tomorrow. As he slipped his free arm around his wife's waist, he silently prayed. Thanking God for his family and for the ability to provide for them. He also prayed that God would bring him, his king, and his men home safe.

A Change of Heart

"Well, what can I say. Love changes people."

"Love?! You, a self-proclaimed 'scoundrel and bachelor'? You think you're in love?"

"Yeah, I do. So what?"


"This is hilarious! Does she know what you do? What you used to do? Does she have any idea who you really are?"

.........

"I'll take your silence as a resounding, 'no'. Why haven't you told her? Are you afraid of what she'll say or of what she'll do?"

"Both."

"I see. So, you believe, in that tiny little lovesick brain of yours, that if you sacrifice yourself she'll see you for who you want her to believe you are; that she'll never have to know that you are everything she hates and despises. You also believe that even if she finds out that she will still 'love' you, provided you sacrifice yourself first. That sound about right?"

"More or less. Can we get this over with?"

 "Why? You in a hurry to die? Because that's what the deal was. One of you sacrifices themselves and the others go free."

"I know what the deal was."

"No pleading? No 'last minute deals'?"

"No."

"Would you like to write a farewell letter for her to cherish when you're gone?"

"No."

"Very well then. As soon as your hearts stops your friends are free to go."

The Message Van

He stared at the writing on the vehicle's roof. The van had sat abandoned in the woods all summer. No one knew where it had come from, it had just appeared. It would probably be towed soon. It was nicknamed the "Message Van". Sometime during those warm months, someone had gotten the "brilliant" idea of writing messages all over the roof, which was now covered in them. Most of it was cutesy stuff- "so-and-so loves so-and-so",  "so-and-so was here". There were also hearts, stars, and other various doodles. Some were dark and hateful. There were also a good amount phone numbers with the words, "call me" written beside them. Some had names, some didn't. He looked at his watch, he'd been reading the markings for almost an hour. It was time to leave. He picked up a marker, there were plenty scattered on the floor. He found an empty spot and wrote, "...but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep..." He then capped the marker and crawled out of the van.

The Faolchuln

got there?!"

Those were the words her mother had uttered the night Faernyn had brought Inis home. He was small and bony, obviously the runt of the litter and obviously underfed, and covered in grey and black fur. He had followed her home that day. It was raining so she hadn't noticed him at first, but when she did, she'd picked him up and carried him the rest of the way home. Her mother, despite her protests about bringing a stray do home, gave him some scraps and an old blanket in the kitchen to sleep on. Later that night however, Faernyn had awoken to find him curled at the foot of her bed. He had lifted his head, stared at her for a moment as if checking to see that she was all right, and then gone back to sleep. They hadn't know what he was at the time. He hadn't looked dangerous.They found out what was a few months later when her step-father came home. He was drunk, as usual, and was more than upset to find a stray dog in his home. He had started yelling and had even kicked Inis, who was now three hands tall. Inis had shied away but had made no threatening sounds or movements. It hadn't been until her father had reached for her that Inis reacted. As her step-father grabbed her hair, Inis started growling. It wasn't a high-pitched growl from a puppy either. It was a deep, menacing growl from something much larger. Her father had turned to kick Inis again and froze. Faernyn also stared in shock. Inis was facing her father, ears back and teeth barred; but what they were staring at was the fact that he was now twice his normal size and that there were "quill" like spikes protruding along his back. His claws had also lengthened and were digging into the hardwood floor. Her step-father had let her go and left, never to be seen again. Shortly afterward, Inis had returned to normal, all traces of the transformation gone.When she had told her mother about it, her mother had turned pale and asked to repeat, in detail, Inis' transformation. Then she told her that Inis was not a dog, he was Faolchuln. The Faolchuln were a wolf-like creature from the north-east mountains, and were never found far from there. They were the hunting and battle companions of the elfish people who resided in those mountains. They were said to appear as small dogs or wolves, only to transform when their masters were threatened. It was also said that they bonded for life, and that they and the one they were bonded with could draw on strength of the other. Yet none of those were the reason for her mom's reaction. In all of stories and legends of the Faolchuln, there was never a case of a Faolchuln bonding with a human.


*Faolchu- Irish word for wolf.

**"Prequel" for a larger story that's floating around in my head.

Magic Butterflies

Devlyn chuckled softly to himself as the children giggled in delight. Behind him, he heard his friend Argus grumble something about "annoying brats." Devlyn had always been intrigued by human children; and not in a demented or perverted way, as some would assume. It was simply curiosity and amazement. They were so resilient. They were fascinated by the smallest of things, like the blue butterflies he was creating now. The magic was simple, but that didn't matter. The children stared at the magic butterflies, all wide eyed and amazed. A few chased them as they flew away; returning to as the magic and butterflies faded, begging him to create more. Even in the poorest of situations they were always full of hope, often seeing the best when an adult could not.

The Proposal

Her hands flew up and covered her her open mouth as a small gasped escaped. After a moment she lifted her astonished eyes to meet mine.

"Are you serious?" she whispered from behind her hands. Then, with a little more volume, she added, "Please tell me you're serious. I'll kill you if your not."

"I know you would." I replied, "and I am perfectly serious. No joking here."

She glanced down at my hands again. She stared quietly at the object in them as a tear rolled down her cheek.

I broke the silence, "You know, it's customary to answer a question when it's asked. Also, not to rush you or anything, my knees are starting to hurt."

Still staring, she asked, "What was the question again?"

I smirked and repeated the question "Will you marry me?"

To Lie or Not to Lie

“Wait….what?!”

“I said, normally I’d-”

“I know what you said!”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You would lie to me?”

“Uhh…yes….”

“Why?”

“Is this really when you want to have this conversation?”

“Yes! I want to know before we crash and die.”

“Well, because I love you.”

…..“Okay, I know you didn’t grow-up in a ‘normal’ of environments, but that is not how you show someone that you love them.”

“Even if the lie is better than the truth?”

“A lie is never better!”

“What if telling you the truth would get you killed?”

“Then tell me that; but don’t lie to me.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good” …. “Do you really love me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then you won’t get upset when I tell you that we’re going the wrong way.”

“What?!”